


When the bells toll

by Amurleopard123



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix, Supernatural
Genre: Altered canon, Angst, At the end of it all, Castiel is the angel of Thursday, Death is old kingdom style, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gabriel shall suffer, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I'm only using the bells from old kingdom I think, M/M, Mostly set in britain, Pre-fic destiel, References to the keys to the kingdom, The bells are angels, so a morrow day, the boys will get the bells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amurleopard123/pseuds/Amurleopard123
Summary: Upon encountering an insane Ranna, team free will must now kill all the angelic bells before they wreak havoc and open the gates of all the celestial domains. Gabriel is forced to consider whether he chose correctly and if this is all really his fault. Please forgive any messy writing, the first chapter was written when I was bored on a coach and I get travel sick so I spent the entire time nauseous and wondering if it was worth the headache





	1. Ranna: The Sleeper

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope I do the old kingdom series justice. I'm going to use that idea of death, rather than supernatural's more linear version with a few changes to the ninth precinct. All the angels can walk in death and when each of the angelic bells die, they leave their bell behind. The bells will be like the abhorsen bells, with 'charter' or the word of God inscribed in them, and mahogany handles. Kevin can read them. Yeah. Also complete coincidence that the first book's called 'sabriel'. A very interesting coincidence. There will be 8 chapters. 7 for the bells, and 1 for fluff. EDIT: I may put in more interludes so chapter number unknown

It started with the hunt, as it always did. An angel had been found by a demon. Torn bloody, ragged and mindless, the demon turned it on a small town of people. That was one of the first things they’d seen as they pulled into the town. The inhabitants had been dragged and piled up. The angel had tried to take apart the houses and the people, trying to build a tower of Babel to reach heaven, wailing with grief at the loss of its wings. Dean had been the one to pull it from where it scrabbled mindlessly in the dirt, hunting for something, for anything to bring it up higher, to raise it and redeem it. It went still at the sight of Castiel and Gabriel. Castiel crouched beside it and talked in a low tone.  
‘Sister, who did this to you.’  
It flinched away from him, before surging forward, grimy hands around Cas’s neck.  
‘You. It was you, you, you. You tore away my wings. Help me brother’  
It seemed to change its mind, darting back to its tower.  
‘I will return us to heaven brother, I will save us all’  
Gabriel stood behind Sam, a look of infinite sadness on his face.  
‘Ranna, sweet Ranna’  
‘And you, brother, we admired you, but look at us now, now’  
It turned back towards them and seemed to consider, its broken mind whirring as it tried to put together what to do next. The indecisiveness seemed to tear its fragile mind to rags, and its feral instinct changed from irritability to rage. It growled and launched itself at Cas once again, with all the desperate strength of a cornered animal, bleeding out, with nowhere left to turn. Dean caught it in the stomach in midair, with a swing that sent its vessel crumpling into the dirt, but the angel only laughed when he held a knife warningly to its throat.  
‘Can you kill me? Will you kill me? can I die now? At the hands of a mortal? Will God, my father, save me, or will he care enough to cast my name into the realms of the forgotten, doubtless, despite my millennia of service and devotion. What to do brothers, what to do? Where is the body who gave me orders all my life? Where are you, Father? where are you, Michael? Where are you? Help me!'  
it screamed into the burning night, its voice cracking with pitiful pain and torturing loss. Its body slumped with one last unearthly howl of grief, and Gabriel could do nothing more than look on with the absolute empathy of a child that called and called for someone to be there, but no one ever came. Then, it seemed to spite its weakness, and turned, directing heavenly vengeance upon the chaos it created in a barren, shell-pocked mind.  
'And you, Winchesters, you who tore the world apart.’  
It spat in Dean’s face, expressions twisted with rage, before smoothing to ludicrous happiness. ‘Will you save me. Help me? Or will you damn me to nothing, just another monster to kill. You save your own angel and not us’  
Again, its mood turned as a hurricane, and it started to claw ashen nails against Dean’s grip. He cursed as it caught his face, spinning away towards Gabriel, pulling out a darkened blade, corroded with the dried brown of the slaughter it had wreaked. It slashed it down, Gabriel making no effort to get out of the way. The blade caught in his clothes, tearing them in a deep slash across his chest. The skin below showed no wound, but the angel didn’t seem to care. It laughed, looking up to Gabriel’s face, now stained with tears at the realisation of what the fledgling he had nurtured and raised, teased and played with, what that bright being had become, wracked with the pain of torture, of the loss of its wings, and the realization there was no one, its father wasn’t there, didn’t care and wouldn’t save it.  
‘Look what happened when you left Gabriel. Look what happened to us. You could have saved us. You could have saved us. You could have saved ME.’  
The angel became more and more hysterical, screaming the last sentences into Gabriel’s face at a frantic, fevered pitch. With a howl of frustration, it threw itself back to the ground where it carved and scrabbled at the bone fragments on the floor. Sam and Dean stood off to the side, dumbfounded, angel blades drawn, ready, when Gabriel whispered  
‘Don’t’  
The angel smiled from where it sat amongst the bodies, long and cruel and hopeless. Castiel still lay where the angel had tried to strangle him, eyes dripping silently with tears. He never wanted this. He never wanted to kill another of his brothers or sisters, he never wanted to have to contemplate whether what he was doing was truly right and yet he couldn’t look at his fallen sister. Surely if he was right, he could face her. But he couldn’t. He lay where he fell, staring at the sky, ashy with sorrow. The broken angel turned to Gabriel, now giggling madly. ‘You won’t kill me? That’s a change. What of Uriel, of Anael, of Esther. Of any of the countless angels, of our brothers and sisters. What of the heavenly host, who tried to temper you. What of Raphael, what of poor sweet Samandriel. What of Zachariah, of Gadreel, though he was misguided and hated. How many have died standing with you and against you, Castiel, Winchesters.’  
‘Stop’ Cas moaned, hands covering his face as he wept openly, seeing them pass before his eyes, each as the angel called their names.  
‘And you, Gabriel. You who has the most blood on their hands. You who ran, rather than face what your family became. We were more your children and you left us to be dragged to order by Michael, so righteous and beautiful but arrogant. And Raphael, single-minded and ruthless. That is who you left is to, to.’  
Gabriel looked as if the bells had tolled for his funeral. He reached a hand outwards, and the snowy ash froze where it fell. The flames were mere afterimages and all but two figures cast in stone. He had stopped time around them, but the physical exertion did nothing to dampen the grey of guilt and shame. He looked as if Lucifer had appeared before him again, plunging the blade into his chest, sorrow and reproach on his face. As if death had whispered his name, once more, and stolen his light from in between his ribs.  
‘Please sister, please, please, please, just-’ He stopped and then started again, his mouth forming wordless shapes. The angel smiled viciously.  
‘Yes brother?’  
Gabriel tried again but all that came out was ‘My fault?’  
Suddenly the angel was in front of him, cradling his head, holding his ear next to its lips.  
‘Your fault brother. Yours, Yours all yours.’  
It tore away again, spit flying from its lips. It was sweating, the drops mixing and smudging with the dirt. it seemed for a moment something golden extended like a string, and dragged it up by its chest, fixing it in place like a grotesque marionette  
‘I am the sleeper, brother. I cast those who must rest into a sleep that will aid them and heal them, or curse them to never awaken. I speak truth and you will hear me’  
It stood frozen in its euphoria, lapsing to mania, lapsing to realization, lapsing to horror, lapsing to understanding and shock. It collapsed into itself, kneeling and drumming its hands against the blood watered earth. It whispered words again and again. Minutes on end, passing like quicksilver and mud.  
‘Kill me, Kill me, kill me please brothers kill me.’  
Tears dripped down its face, mingling with the blood, sweat, and dirt, smudging it in silvery tracks. Gabriel stared, ashen, parting his lips in a single word.  
‘No’  
The angel screamed in frustration and pain and carried on those awful words, again and again, ripping apart the quiet and moving time once more. It disappeared and reappeared behind Sam, who whirled in confusion, not quite fast enough. Ranna threw him across the square, where he hit the wall, hard.  
‘Sammy!’ Dean called, but the angel appeared next to Dean once again, throwing him to the ground, holding him down. Cas had stood up, with the effort of his sins weighing down upon his back, like an old, old man, and upon seeing this, gave a wounded cry, rushing at the angel, who knocked him out in a heartbeat, using the blunted, clublike hilt of the blade, engraved with a strange, Enochian sigil. It turned back to the motionless Gabriel.  
‘See how they throw themselves at me. It is you I want to have my murder on. Kill me or I break them.’  
Then it cocked its head, almost birdlike.  
‘You care for the other. Then it is him I shall break’  
‘No!’ Gabriel called, but it was too late. The angel tossed aside a senseless Dean. Then, it was suddenly standing next to a struggling Sam, who was trying to get up, to resist. The angel regarded his attempts for a minute before stamping down on Sam’s outstretched hand. Sam gasped in pain, a sound almost drowned out by the crack of delicate bones. Curling around his broken hand, Sam grunted in pain, trying so hard not to scream. The angel spent no time, kicking him in his exposed stomach, then his shoulder, then against his ribs.  
Gabriel had moved further forward with each broken bone and muffled scream, his blade now in his hand, some terrible emotion keeping him from closing the gap, all the while, moaning  
‘Sam, Sam, please understand, I can’t, Sam’  
The angel looked at him, its foot positioned over Sam’s throat. Gabriel knew it would do it. The foot came down, ready to crush Sam’s windpipe and leave him to drown in his own blood. The blade sank through Ranna, the point coming out just below its shoulder. The angel seemed a bit surprised at first, but then it, no, she smiled, pulling herself off the blade and turning to face Gabriel.  
‘Thank you’  
The fledgeling Gabriel had known and loved sank into her brother's arms, face at rest as her grace burned away, the sleeper now at rest.  
Gabriel keened, rocking back and forth, clutching Ranna’s body. Slowly, he put her down, kissing her forehead in a last goodbye, before snapping his fingers. The village burst into a bright, ethereal flame, the trapped souls of the townspeople returning to heaven. Gabriel gathered Sam into his arms, kneeling on the dirt, healing his wounds, delicately reconstructing his hand. Holding Sam up high, he walked to where Castiel and Dean lay, side by side. Placing Sam by them, resting his head on Gabriel’s lap, Gabriel waited in silent vigil to those freed by the flames, ready to take all of them home when they awoke, leaving yet another of his siblings, of his children, to never wake again.  
Once Ranna's body burned away, a silver bell lay where her heart had been. It was small, golden symbols crawling over it and it tinkled with a pretty voice. Gabriel conjured up the bandoleer and gently, muffled Ranna, placing it into the bandoleer. Sighing, he wondered how he could face her brethren, now he had to kill them all.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel summons the celestial bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tired and it's 2 am going on 3. The prayers aren't mine, they're from one of my many prayer books. First is a translated Swahili hymn. Second is an Anglican hymn. First verse refers to the heavenly host, second, the mother of Jesus, the third, all souls and all saints and the fourth the whole of the church on heaven and earth. I've changed a few words , like patriarchs to rulers in the first and three in one to three as one in the second. Kudos much appreciated. So are hits tbh.

After the three sleepers inevitably awakened, Gabriel greeted then with a false smile on his lips and tears in his heart.

Dean immediately wanted to leave the village razed to the ground and return to the bunker for a beer and game of thrones.

Sam asked Gabriel what had happened and then, when he didn't answer, started to think on the research he was helping Charlie with, on poisons. They had just found a potent mix of extinct herbs which, when burnt, could exorcise any weaker demons or ghosts from their bodies. They had yet to fully test it but if it worked then their lives would be instantly easier. 

Castiel was silent. He thought over the same grief as his brother. They silently agreed to wait until the Winchesters were safe and out of the way before they convened in mourning and pondered on what to do next. All together, they piled into the raven black impala. Gabriel wondered if that was really what the car had come to symbolise. It came at the call of death, the colour of the carrion crows that roost in the cemeteries and abandoned churchyards, harbingers of death and friends to those who live in the shadows of this world

_ But it also brings life and hope. Two men, impossibly human, fighting against forces beyond their imagining simply because they believe they can help. They fight even angels, Humanity’s supposed protectors, just to protect what is right. _

However mistaken they have been, whatever they have done, bad or good, it's this that makes it all worth it. It's the same reason he forgives Castiel, however misguided he gets. They are all attempting to do the right thing.

_ And I thought it good _ , he thought with a twist of irony. Angels committed the ultimate irony of believing they were good. That arrogance was what laid their bodies to earth, coupled with their unbending faith. With this thought, the car came to rest and they all got out, thoughts turned to other, more trivial contemplations.

 

Castiel found Gabriel in a ruined monastery, of the northeastern coast of England. The sky was stained with gunmetal grey and blue-black storm clouds, occasionally brightened with branched tongues of lightning, lashing at the ground with an ancient anger. The tide was high, no sign of life except for the occasional screeches of the storm petrols and albatrosses. Castiel walked up the muddied path, staring at the bloody fractures of history he could see imprinted into the earth. He had seen many slaughters and this one was one of the smaller ones. However, now he had lived on earth with the Winchesters, the scenes got to him so much more. The cries of the women as their virtue and lives were taken viciously. The guttural gasps of a man drowning in his own blood. The screams of the children cut off by cruel iron swords. The hollering of the animals mingling with the bawling infants, left to die in the cold and the damp. Worst of all were the fervent mutterings of the monks, praying to an absent god to save them. Castiel knew how they felt. He met his brother standing in the ruins, staring out at the sea. He spoke

‘You hear them, don't you?’

After Castiel offered affirmation, Gabriel turned to face him.

‘Everything hurt so much less before we learnt how to feel.’

‘Brother, Mosrael.’

Gabriel's face fell.

‘We shall talk about him in a minute. For now, we pray’

They stood in silence, before Gabriel recited a prayer he had learnt among the humans. It was originally a song, a prayer for those dead, but sung in enochian, it was his way of speaking for forgiveness from his father

**Think, O LORD, in mercy**

**On the souls of those**

**Who, in faith gone from us,**

**Now in death repose.**

**Here 'mid stress and conflict**

**Toils can never cease;**

**There, the warfare ended,**

**Bid them rest in peace.**

 

**Often were they wounded**

**In the deadly strife;**

**Heal them, good physician**

**With the balm of life.**

**Every taint of evil,**

**Frailty and decay,**

**Good and gracious saviour**

**Cleanse and purge away.**

 

**Rest eternal grant them,**

**After weary fight;**

**Shed on them the reassurance**

**Of thy heavenly light.**

**Lead them onward, upward,**

**To the holy place,**

**Where thy saints made perfect**

**Gaze upon thy face.**

 

Castiel stared, lost in sadness. Then a voice that belonged to neither spoke from behind them. Both whirled around, ready to fly away from danger, but all they saw was an old man. He talked with the lilt of the North, steadfast and stuck in his ways. His eyes were white as seafoam though he looked on both with wonder. He spoke to them in passage, as they had just done, this time in English, in the shape of an old lullaby

**_Ye watchers and ye holy ones,_ **

**_Bright Seraphs, Cherubim and Thrones_ **

**_Raise the glad strain, Alleluya!_ **

**_Cry out Dominions, Princedoms, Powers,_ **

**_Virtues, Archangels, Angel's choirs,_ **

**_Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya!_ **

The strains of song died away slowly, echoed by the howling wind. Gabriel frowned.

‘That's not where the song ends.’

The man laughed, a brash, jarring noise.

' **Then join me. We haven't long’**

The strange man started to sing the next verse, voice a loud, confident tenor. Hesitantly, Castiel joined in, his voice rising higher than the other man, in a soothing baritone.

**_O higher than the Cherubim,_ **

**_More glorious than the Seraphim,_ **

**_Lead their praises, Alleluya!_ **

**_Thou Bearer of the eternal WORD,_ **

**_Most gracious, magnify the LORD,_ **

**_Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya!_ **

Gabriel stared at the two before closing his eyes in defeat. At the beginning of the next verse, a full, throaty bass joined them. The old man smiled and they were all reminded of a time long ago when all was calm and tranquil.

**_Respond, ye souls in endless rest,_ **

**_Ye Rulers and Prophets blest,_ **

**_Alleluya, Alleluya!_ **

**_Ye holy twelve, ye martyrs strong,_ **

**_All saints triumphant, raise the song_ **

**_Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya!_ **

With the joining of the third voice, they started to harmonize, joining together in a single pure melody, supported by the lower parts. The storm quieted it's rumbles and birds wheeled and landed on rocks nearby. Mice and rodents crawled from their dens to listen. Whales and porpoises slowly swam by the island as the song escalated to beyond human hearing. The angels sang in their true voices. Plants bloomed and grew closer, just to hear. Then, a brush of wings indicated the coming of an angel. Then another. And another. Five voices joined. Another smooth bass joined Gabriel, another thoughtful and honey like tenor joining the man. A mouthful alto joined Castiel. A bright dancing soprano sang at the top, where a young, pure treble held sway. Together they shifted and sang the verse as a choir. Then Gabriel drew Ranna. The sweet bell did not ring alone for long. Six others joined in cloying tones. The storm began to gather again, unnatural in a dense swirling mass, the angels standing in the eye of the storm

**_O friends, in gladness let us sing,_ **

**_Supernal anthems echoing,_ **

**_Alleluya, Alleluya!_ **

**_To GOD THE FATHER, GOD THE SON,_ **

**_And GOD THE SPIRIT, THREE AS ONE_ **

**_Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya, Alleluya!_ **

The last chord died away and with it, the atmosphere gathered around them. The clouds dispersed, leaving an Azure sky. The birds startled into flight, calling out applause in screeches as they rose upwards in a feather filled spiral. The small furry mammals squeaked in surprise and fear, as if reminded of their lot in life, and dashed back to burrows and safety. The ocean echoed with Whalesong and dolphin chatter, a haunting parody of the anthem only moments before ended. Plants sighed and retreated, flowers closing their petals. The memories of death that surrounded the monastery lessened even as they had grown stronger. Soon, only the eight divine beings stood upon that ruin. Stilling the bells in their hands, the six angels returned them to within themselves, as they might do with a blade. They all turned to Gabriel, showing various emotions upon their faces. Gabriel opened his eyes and called them by their names

'Mosrael  _ Waker,  _ Kibeth  _ Walker,  _ Dyrim  _ Speaker,  _ Belgaer  _ Thinker,  _ Saraneth  _ Binder,  _ Astarael  _ Weeper.’ _

Each angel hummed a short note in response to their names. Gabriel seemed to hesitate, but carried on anyway. 

'Ranna is dead. She was driven mad by a demon and begged for me to kill her. She resorted to trying to kill Castiel and the Winchesters to get me to do it. The last thing she said to me was thank you.’

All nodded, but predictably, it was Dyrim who spoke.

**‘You do know what this means, brother. The celestial bells cannot exist without a wielder for each or one wielding all until we are risen once more at the rising of the 9 bright shiners. If not the realms will tear apart and the gates to heaven, hell, purgatory and the empty will open to all other dimensions.’**

Astarael spoke in a tired, old voice. **'You must kill us all in order. Some of us will not come willingly. Comfort yourselves with that fact we will be reborn. But still, let us run from our hunters.’**

The others all nodded in agreement.

Slowly, starting with Astarael, the angels started to disappear, flying on wings of silver. Mosrael was the last to go. He winked at the both of them, before saying, **'Good luck. I'm planning on being found.’**

Then he left as well, leaving the two last angels standing in the ruin. Castiel turned to Gabriel, his speechlessness evident from his eyes. Gabriel smiled before reaching out to his younger and most beloved brother. He embraced him, curling his wings around him protectively. 

'Oh my brother, I would wish that we should never kill again, though our needs must.’ he whispered, as his tears soaked onto Castiel shoulder, taking them back to the bunker. He held two fingers to Castiel’s forehead and picked him up gently as he slumped. He walked to Dean's room, watched where the older Winchester slept with an obvious space next to him. Gabriel quietly chuckled before dressing Cas in black pyjamas with white magpies blended into the fabric. Placing his brother down beside Dean, he watched as Dean turned to embrace the new source of heat, smiling.

'He’s a keeper’ he whispered to the sleeping pair, before going to watch over his own Winchester. He always left before Sam awakened, but stayed long enough to keep the nightmares from his dreams. Even if Sam didn't know, he felt it was worth doing for a human who had managed to somehow take Gabriel's heart.


	3. Mosrael: The Waker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finally tells the Winchesters who Ranna was. They all set out to hunt down and kill Mosrael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HEEEERE  
> This is my third time writing this, because my laptop's crap and it keeps becoming unresponsive. Basically, this master chapter took me far too long to write, even accounting for all my summer holiday time. This chapter's a little bit longer than the other two. Well. The writing is better by far than the first, which I now look at and see shit, so will rewrite at some point. Correct me if you see any errors besides difference in spellings and mannerisms from any form of English other than British. Kudos and comments greatly appreciated!

Bleary-eyed and weary, Dean wandered into the room they called the kitchen. It seemed to him that Sam had already awoken, evident by the rabbit food scattered over the counter. Castiel had predictably eaten nothing, but the reason Dean could tell he’d been here was the meticulous ordering of everything in the fridge. Everything had been so neatly ordered, it made him feel slightly irked to mess it up. The only thing that proved Gabriel had been here was a missing box of Elvas plums he had brought one morning. The preserved greengages were ridiculously sweet and fairly expensive, so much so Dean had baulked slightly when Gabriel told him how expensive it was to get Fortnum and Mason’s finest in the US. Dean frowned. Normally he was afraid to come in here because it was almost always an explosion of food. While the archangel could cook, he seemed to have an inexplicable aversion to cleaning up after himself, which Dean thought was particularly annoying, seeing as he could clean everything with a literal snap of his fingers. Still, if today was different, then it meant less work for, inevitably, Sam when he came by on his daily cleaning routine. Pawing at the cupboard door handle, Dean managed to open it and get out the biggest mug he owned without smashing it, which was a remarkable achievement, as he had yet to care enough to control the finer motor functions in his hands. There was still a colourful, traffic light smattering of bruises across his knuckles and slightly swollen fingers. The angel from two days ago really hadn’t been kidding around. Dean punched it so hard he was sure he had broken a finger, but the angel had just laughed. Dean huffed.  _ Freakin’ angels _ . Shoving his mug into the espresso machine and taking one of the small gold capsules, Dean waited tersely as the machine brewed the large cup of coffee. As soon as it was finished dispensing, he grabbed a small 100ml bottle of some strangely expensive scotch that had been a little calling card from Crowley. Dean had been suspicious of the fact that Cas couldn’t find anything wrong with it, no poisons, no nothing. At least it made for nice Irish (?) coffee. Pouring in the whole bottle, Dean turned and picked up the stack of bacon and maple syrup pancakes he requested from Gabriel the previous day. Marching through the hallways to the library, he took a sip of the coffee, winced at the strength of the whiskey but noted a strange smokiness he didn’t normally get in the cheap liquor he traditionally bought and arrived on a grim scene. The door was open. Sam was wearing one of his insane bitch faces. Gabriel was sitting on top of a shelf, twirling a nasty set of circular Indian throwing discs. Sam’s food was burning in a corner. Also a menagerie of crows. Quite a few of them. So many, Dean actually thought they might be ravens. Or rooks. Giving a tired sigh, Dean took a long draft of his coffee and went to sit down. It was a stiff five minutes before Dean gained sufficient conscious thought to ask

‘What's with the crows’

Sam immediately corrected him

‘Ravens. And a couple of crows’

‘Yeah, yeah, corvids, I get it’

A flicker of surprise crossed Sam’s face. Then he went back to glaring at Gabriel.

Gabriel answered first by spitting a plum stone in a graceful arc into Dean's coffee, who swore and fished it out, and then by saying, weirdly distantly, 

‘It reminded me of something’

‘Yeah but didja have to do it here?’

Gabriel’s eyes snapped back into focus and he answered cheekily ‘Nah but pissing off Sammy in the morning is too enjoyable to pass up’

Dean let that pass by without comment. It was definitely entertaining, that's all he could say.

‘And the fire?’

‘Oh, he came in and said I should eat more healthily so I set his food on fire. Shoulda done something more inventive, to be honest’

‘Could ya put it out? It's kinda scorching the section on Shinto. And get rid of the crows while you're at it.’

Gabriel shrugged and it was out. The crows were miraculously gone, as were the numerous gifts they left behind. 

‘Also about that angel two days ago’

Sam cut in. ‘Who was she? Her blade was different and her body was gone when I woke up. There weren't even normal wings. They were covered in moving gold marks. I sketched a few to show to Kevin, but they started to flicker, even as I did it’

‘Doesn't really matter. She died like the rest. S’not important anyway. She deserved all she got, for what she did to those people. Monster.’

Gabriel went still as Sam voiced his question but that was nothing compared to the tension that visibly wrought his frame as Dean spoke. At the end of it his hands were gripping the blade tightly. Castiel chose this moment to appear. He saw Gabriel and managed a rushed ‘brother’ before Gabriel was off the shelf, flying cat-like across the room. In a fraction of a second, Dean was being held against a wall by his throat. Slowly, viciously, Gabriel raised his blade and pressed the serrated edge against the tanned skin. If Dean so much as swallowed, let alone spoke, he was done. Gabriel smiled, full of cruelty and calm. ‘Castiel, keep your  _ boyfriend  _ under control.’

Castiel held out his hands in a placating gesture ‘Calm brother, he didn't know. He's only doing as he's been taught. I've been trying to work through it with him but it's difficult. If you wish to blame anyone, blame John Winchester ’

‘Maybe I'll take my strife with him out on his spawn. Kill his perfect little soldier why don't I?’

Castiel took a step forward only to be halted by a whirring silver blade, flying past his head and embedding itself in the wall behind, only to shimmer and reappear in Gabriel's outstretched hand. He turned a dark gaze on him, the brazen smile still etched into his features

‘Don't test me brother.’ he examined the blade held in his left hand, a hint of red where Castiel had been too trusting and not fast enough. ‘I made these blades while in my self-imposed exile. They were made to kill any angels who opposed me and came to bring me back to heaven. I never had to use them. Dear Michael must have had bigger things on his mind than hunting down one of his first brothers. Strange that I should first use them on you, brother, you who are most dear to me among all those who served in heaven's ranks.’

Castiel remained cautious. ‘You remember John Winchester.  Much as he may have loved Dean, he cared for his second son much more. He would and did sacrifice Dean in a heartbeat. Even if he repented, his feelings remained the same.’ Castiel winced at Sam’s flinch and Dean's gaze of horror and betrayal. It might have cost him Dean for a few days, but it was worth it to save his life. ‘Take solace in the fact that she saw fit to spare both of them. You know...knew her. If she despised either, she would have taken them with her in her madness. She also would not remember you as this, violent and temperamental. Where is your mercy? You act as if you were Michael, blindly following your beliefs with no respect for collateral’

Gabriel stopped smiling halfway through and instead his face worked with the force of emotion. Finally, sadness settled on his face, soft as down and as sharp as razor blades. He dropped his weapons, and they shimmered and burst into petals of light, scattering into nothing. Suddenly, six golden wings were visible, one huge pair ready to take flight, another encircling Gabriel's lower body. A third shielded his eyes like blinkers. He looked up at the ceiling, lost and vulnerable. Then in a voice, carrying echoes of a higher power, he said mournfully

‘Her name was Ranna. And she was one of many of my brethren, no, children who I failed. Now she lies forgotten in the dust.’

Sam edged towards him

The wings that shielded his eyes now nestled against his face, just barely covering silver tear tracks.

The large wings beat down

Sam lunged

Both of them vanished.

Castiel scrambled to Dean, who was nursing his throat. He held out a hand, ready to heal, searching for consent. Dean snarled at him, knocking his hand away with considerable force, and leapt to his feet.

‘Dean!’ Cas called ‘at least let me heal you’

‘Did you really mean it? What you said about dad?’

‘Dean I-’ Cas ran a hand through his hair, mussing it into spikes ‘Gabriel was going to kill you. I had to say something’

Dean's face looked like a storm over an icy sea. His green eyes flashed with anger, his shoulders hunched and his fists were clenching with the effort it took not to hit Castiel. His voice came in a betrayed whisper

‘So you did mean it’

‘No, please we've talked about-’

‘Stop talking.’

Dean marched away, hand pressed against his throat to stifle the sluggish ribbon of red. Castiel watched him go, helpless and alone.

 

Gabriel materialised on a clifftop on the Isle of Skye. He wasn't entirely sure which one. The passenger who had clung to him through the whole trip was the reason for that. As soon as Sam landed with a loud ‘oof’, Gabriel rounded on him. 

‘Why can you Winchesters not take a hint? Wasn't me almost slitting your brothers throat enough? Can't you tell I want to be alone!’ 

The last words escalated to a howl of frustration. It was enough to want to push the younger Winchester off himself. Sam just stood there, a look of sadness on his face.

‘She really meant a lot to you.’

Gabriel sneered in derision, which turned into a scowl. 

‘Listen’ Sam continued, cautiously, ‘I have lost those I care for too. Probably nowhere near as many as you, but I know a bit about how you feel’

‘Oh really’ Gabriel said sardonically ‘You Winchesters are the biggest murder magnets I've ever met. It's a wonder you get attached enough to care’

Gabriel felt a stab of regret at the hurt look that crossed Sam’s face, but refused to let it show. 

‘Ok I did not cling to you through the terrifying experience of metaphysical flight just to be ignored, so just listen for a bit, ok?’

Gabriel hummed a single note but didn't relax.

‘You know how much I love my brother. He's one of the only things that kept me tied to my family after I left. He dragged me back into hunting, he fought for, with and against me, he tore himself apart to save me, sacrificed everything for me. Went through thirty years of torture because of me. And learned a darkness I could never come close to healing him from. That's why I let Castiel try. He's good for him. But that's beside the point. I went through one hundred and twenty years of torture just because I knew who'd be waiting for me on the other side. It was when Dean and Cas got lost in purgatory that I realised I couldn't do it. I wandered for a few days, friendless and lonely. Then it just popped into my head. I can't do this without my brother. I don't want to do this without my brother. So I stopped. Tried to run. Dean caught up and again I was drawn back in. Every time I've tried for a normal life I've been dragged back in by my last connection. I've hated him for it. But never for long. I can't hate him, not really. We've tried splitting apart and always ended up back in the seats of that damn Impala. If I was to lose him forever, if there was no way for him to come back… I would destroy myself. I think the fact you feel this, shows you're like us.’

‘Nice speech’

Sam huffed, aware that Gabriel still seemed standoffish. ‘Look, I might be a prelaw but that was good even for me. But since you still seem unconvinced, I'll show you’

Gabriel laughed high and nasal before he realised Sam had charged him. They were both flying through the air and over the edge of the cliff. Gabriel tried to resist, but Sam being almost a foot taller than his vessel easily gripped him in a bear hug. Then Sam’s soul flared as the timeline adjusted and he prepared for death. Sighing, Gabriel reached out to brush the surface. 

Darkness

Rushing

Shards of light

Tumbling

Emotions as fleeting as mist

Pain

Sadness

Loss

Despair

Happiness

Deep regret

Howling neglect 

Impurity

Self-hatred

Rage

An emotion he couldn't quite reach, like it was deliberately blocked off

If he just reached…

Then Sam tore away. The ground rushed upwards below Gabriel, facing upwards, Sam facing downwards, their hands almost touching. Gabriel said only one thing before he hit the ground. He whispered brokenly

‘How do you stand it?’

Then golden wings snapped out a metre from the ground and there was a moment when Sam fell into Gabriel's open-armed embrace then they were back in the map room, in two chairs at the table. Gabriel stood as soon as he landed. 

‘I must find Castiel, get your brother. We need to talk’

Sam was too surprised to talk, he just nodded and ran out of the room. Gabriel sighed before preparing to take off.  _ When had he fallen quite so hard _

 

Sam found Dean in the gun range. He had been looking at tuning up his sniper rifle, so was testing its accuracy. Of course Sam knew it had to be to do with what Cas had said earlier.

‘Hey’

His brother grunted. For a moment Sam wanted to take back everything he'd said to Gabriel about loving his brother. He was so emotionally stunted it was painful to watch his tentative relationship with Cas sometimes. They so clearly cared deeply about each other yet neither knew quite how everything was supposed to work between them. 

‘What did you do’

Dean looked up from his scope with angry eyes.

‘I didn't do anything. Ask Cas. He's the one who messed everything up.’

Sam scoffed ‘This isn't about what Cas said earlier is it? Cause if it is I don't see why you're so mad’

Dean bolted upright ‘Fuck yes it's about what he said earlier. He basically said dad didn't love me and didn't or wouldn't care if I died.  Maybe those might be true but it's still harsh’

‘God Dean, he saved your life. And don't forget he's an angel. The only patriarchal figure he has is the neglectful creator of the universe himself. He's not gonna understand.  That's not Cas. And you can't force him to either. Don't forget you are the first human being whose soul he marked. He imprinted on you for the rest of your existence but you also imprinted on him. You're being far too harsh.’

Dean turned away but Sam could tell he'd won. ‘Jeez first a mourning archangel, now my brother, who else wants to profit from the Sam Winchester life advice service’

Dean huffed ‘Shut your piehole’

‘Anyway, Gabriel wants to meet us in the map room. He's got something important to say.’

‘As long as it doesn't involve more assault I'm game.’ Dean stood, giving Sam a chance to look at his neck. ‘Shit, you didn't even let Cas heal you? You're hopeless’

‘What did I just say Sammy?’

‘Don't call me Sammy!’

Their bickering fades away down the corridor, leaving the stale tang of stinging regret and longing.

 

Gabriel and Castiel waited in terse silence. Gabriel could tell Cas didn't want to talk because of what he'd almost done to Dean. Gabriel didn't really want to say anything either but he knew he was going to have to ask his brother for something big soon. Sam and Dean came in silently. Dean barely looked at Cas and took a seat across the room, opposite Gabriel. The look of open hurt and regret on Cas’ face was enough to make Gabriel want to punch Dean, even though he knew this was technically his fault. As soon as Sam had taken a seat next to Dean, Gabriel cleared his throat and tried to begin. 

'So, I'm not really sure where to start explaining from so I guess I'll just try from the beginning, why don't I’

'When God first created the different celestial realms, he decided for each of us to guard a realm. Earth’ he said with a sad smile 'used to be mine. Purgatory was Raphael’s, Heaven was Michael's and, here's the kicker, Hell was Lucifer's. Everything seemed to be fine. We kept each other’s dimensions going. Then God wanted to fill them. We all know how that went. Lucifer was cast into his own realm and imprisoned there. Thing is, now the realms were unbalanced. For some reason, God decided against another archangel and made nine angels. They held custody of all things to do with death. They weren't reapers, much more powerful. Death was only allowed a modicum of control over them. They maintained heaven, hell and purgatory. Every thousand or so years, their celestial objects would rise and set. When they rose, the angels were reincarnated.’ Gabriel counted them off on his fingers 'The Sun, Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune. Whenever they align away from the centre of the milky way, they set, towards, they rise. Two of them died early on, about 1500 years ago. Orannis, very destruction inclined, and Mogget. Now only seven remain. They are the ones who actually wield bells which manipulate death. The two who died both held only swords.’

There was a thump. Gabriel looked up to see Dean, his head pressed against the table. 'Why are you telling us this? Cause if it's irrelevant, I would like to get on with my life?’

Gabriel was about to explode but Sam hit Dean on the shoulder. ‘Shut up this is the best thing I've heard lore wise in forever! I've never even heard them mentioned in manuscripts’

Gabriel chuckled ‘That's because, to my knowledge, no human has ever heard this. So you're lucky. Anyway, there are seven who wield the bells. Ranna, the smallest, the sleeper, Mosrael, the waker, Dyrim, the speaker, Belgaer, the thinker, Saraneth, the binder, Astarael, the weeper’

Sam's face split in realisation, ‘That angel… She was that powerful?’

'Yes. Unfortunately, now the bells are out of balance. Two other angels wield the swords of Mogget and Orannis but the bells must be wielded by one person or their own angels. Therefore…’

Dean cut in ‘We killed one, now we need to kill the rest, great’

Sam looked to Gabriel for clarification, who winced. 'He’s right.’

‘Aw great, now what?’

Gabriel smiled ‘ They each have their own abilities, but I know where they'll be. They take some of their power from the pagan ley lines and places of power in one of the old countries, to be slightly more exact, Britain.’

Silence.

‘You've got to be fucking joking’

Dean sprang out of his seat.

‘I'm not flying to a small rainy island full of assholes that talk like Crowley or Rowena just to kill some angels, hell no’

Gabriel smiled grimly ‘Then be prepared for the consequences. The next setting is in 6 months. If we don't kill them by then, say goodbye to the gates that separate the realms’

'What.’

'Hm. Now’ Gabriel turned to Castiel. ‘I ask a favour from you.’

Castiel looked up, realised and jumped to his feet. 'I will not do that brother, I won't use them again’

‘We need them, brother.’

'I know, but I can't, no, not with Dean here. They will kill him. And Sam.’

Cas began hyperventilating, wringing his hands, his eyes darting around the room. In a single movement, Dean cursed, got up from his chair, crossed the room and embraced Castiel. He pulled the angel against his chest and began murmuring comforts into his ear, whilst glaring daggers at Sam, who looked far too smug for anyone’s liking. Finally, Cas calmed down enough, Dean gently rocking the both of them back and forth, to say 'If they get out of control, stop them. Please.’

Gabriel nodded. Then with a flick of his wrist, he summoned three dolls. Each one was made of a different wood. One of birch, one of bloodwood and one of deep ebony. Each had carved features, furled wings and a small cavity where a heart would have been. Cas held out his hand for the birch. Something shimmered in his left hand. A chain of wooden links, the same three woods as the dolls. On them, there were three, intricate hearts. One of silver, one of gold and one of glassy onyx. Castiel summoned his sword, pricked his finger, and let bloody grace drip once onto the silver heart.

It began to vibrate.

Castiel grabbed at the doll and forced it into the chest cavity. The doll began to shudder and grow. Soon, a fully grown man, with wings of grey, stood before them all. He was dressed smartly in a dove grey suit, a light shell pink waistcoat and handkerchief, like the colour of dawn. His hair was ashy blond, his eyes a grey-blue, his skin pale as cloud and a silver pocket watch was tucked archaically into his waistcoat pocket. He looked as though he had lived a century ago. He smiled and spoke, giving Dean and Sam the glimpse of a silver tongue. ‘Why master, it's been so long. I'd begun to think you'd never summon me again, what with our little misunderstanding.’ 

Castiel's face was one of stone. He only said 'I need to speak to all of you’

The man smiled and bowed, a patient smile on his face.

Next, Castiel took the gold heart, dripping careful grace onto it and shoving it into the bloodwood doll as soon as it was done. The man the doll turned into had wings of golden amber and wore a waistcoat of golden entwined foliage, a white dress shirt, deerskin breeches and a red amber brooch. He wore no shoes and his hair was fiery, his ears were pierced with a single gold ring and his eyes were a golden honey. His skin was tanned fawn brown and his face laughed compared to the smarm of the man before him, though his tongue also rested gold in his mouth. 'Master, it's been far too long. Has Dawn apologised, so we can all fly on your day once more?’

Castiel jerkily shook his head and grabbed at the last heart. It was then baptised in blood before Castiel, more gently than he had done the others, pushed the heart into the cavity. The man who grew from it was dark skinned and taller than both the others. His hair was shock white, his eyes also, pupil-less. His clothes were black and tattered, he also wore no shoes. Two pearls, one black, one white in either ear. He had a long black heavy cloak that didn't conceal midnight wings. As the others had, so had he, a tongue as black as the onyx heart that drove him. 

'Dawn, Noon, Dusk. My lieutenants. I have kept you chained for so long’

An aura of arrogance emanated from the first man, matching his aristocratic appearance. The second man beamed with unsettling joy, though his eyes were cold and calculating. The third man was rigid and imposing. He registered the other presences in the room, stared as if weighing up his options, then continued surveying his situation. The silver-tongued man, “Dawn”, spoke first.

‘Master, may I inquire as to what you would like us to do. Given that you've decided to summon us again, though you haven't even acknowledged us for a century and a half, it must be oh-so-important’

The man strongly reminded Dean of Crowley. The accent was similar, the arrogance was uncanny and his literal silver tongue was familiar.

‘We must seek out the celestial bells. One of them is dead and they must all die before the next rising. I need you to fly out on your respective reigns and find Mosrael. Search the Corpse Roads, the Barrows and the mass graves. He prefers the North, but will be drawn to places of slaughter and unrestful dead.’

Castiel's voice sounded strange when he was commanding them. Disconnected, dispassionate. Dawn, whose reign it currently was, smiled savagely, and took off. Noon and Dusk nodded confirmation, and disappeared. Cas stood, staring at where they had disappeared for two long minutes. Then he turned, tilted his head to one side and smiled. He was sickly pale and his arm dropped blood. He moved his mouth, trying to form words, managing a weak 'I didn't... lose...them’ before collapsing. Dean caught him with a curse. He looked up to Gabriel, who smiled.

'He’ll be fine. He's emotionally wrung out and his grace needs time to recover from summoning those three.’

‘Who were they anyway?’ Sam piped up from his seat in the corner ‘Cas seemed really worried about them hurting us, or something’

‘Yeah, since Castiel is the angel of Thursday, he has three lieutenants to serve him for each segment, or ‘reign’, of his day. He's been reluctant to use them because one of them, Dawn, was sent on a rescue mission for a fledgeling. They were under a curse, so instead of trying to break it, Dawn just killed the fledgeling. And used its blood for some really dodgy ritual to try and cover it up’

Dean's jaw worked before he picked Castiel up properly and carried him out of the room. Gabriel favoured a grim smile at their departure, and turned to Sam.

‘Now, we wait’

 

Dean carried Cas to their room. Ever since Cas had lost his grace, he’d had to learn what it was to feel hunger, fatigue and thirst. He’d gotten drunk for the first time, one night when he’d been left behind at the bunker. The only thing he’d said after was that it was a mistake. What he said while he was still off his face was a completely different matter. Cas seemed to be an impulsive drunk. He had slurred things so out of character, Dean almost thought he was talking to Jimmy, rather than Cas. It was when they were almost to Cas’ room that he changed. He grew subdued and quiet until Dean prepared to leave. Cas gripped Dean’s arm so hard he was sure the bones popped. When he had asked him to ‘Let go, goddamnit!’, Cas only looked up at him with eyes full of vulnerability and fear. Cas was terrified and he was being strangely childlike.T he only solution Dean had found was to stay with Cas as he slept. He recognised the symptoms from when he was younger. For years after his mother’s death, he dreamed of flames and the smell of cooking meat. Those had eventually faded, but after his time in hell, they came back full force. He still got them. Sometimes, if the dream was good, he would see a light so painfully bright he couldn’t look at it, his ears would ring and his shoulder would burn, but only for a second. Then a cooling darkness would ebb through him and he would be blanketed by a familiar, wrathful presence. He never mentioned them to Cas, never asked what had happened when he pulled him out. He didn’t want to fracture the peaceful ending to his nightmare, and leave only pain, and fear. Then Sam martyred himself, tumbling into hell with an archangel who expressed his rage in thousands of new and creative ways. The wall so carefully erected came tumbling down and Sam  _ remembered. _ Then Cas took on his pain, was turned into someone who could no longer understand fear or pain or need or seriousness. Dean always hated himself for trying to “fix” Cas, for dragging him into a war that he had already given so much in. Now Cas had to cope with those memories as a human.

Dean knew how Cas was barely holding together then, and barely even doing it now, even having recovered his grace and his wings. It’s why he still sleeps. It’s a ritual and a hallmark. It does nothing for him physically, but it lets him relive moments of stability and equilibrium that he had experienced when human, when Dean was sleeping beside him, warding off the nightmares. Dean has no fucking idea why Cas sees him as an anchor, but he’s glad he can help him and atone for what he’s done to Cas through their whole, long, messy relationship. Pulling himself out of his internal monologue for just a second, Dean kicked open his door and lowered Cas onto the mattress. The angels Cas had seemingly just summoned, his “lieutenants”, had only further cemented the idea in his mind that almost all of heaven's finest feather-bags were little more than arrogant dicks. Stroking back the dark, messy hair from where sweat plastered it to Cas’s forehead, Dean murmured ‘I’m sorry for earlier. You were right, I was an asshole and it only cost me my pride to admit to it’

A smile slowly spread across Cas’s face. ‘Thought I’d have to wait at least another two days before hearing that’

‘Ah well, I try. Sorry for always being a highly strung ass’

Cas settled down deeper. ‘S’fine’ he said sleepily ‘Moments like this is why I put up with you’

Dean let out a slightly mortified ‘Cas’, but he had already fallen asleep. Dean waited a few hours until he was sure it had to be midnight. Then he shook Cas gently awake, and set off towards the map room.

 

Turned out it wasn’t after midnight yet. Gabriel summoned them as Thursday was just about to give way to Friday. Castiel came with Dean only ten minutes before the change. Gabriel turned to Castiel with a smile. 

‘Summon him’

Castiel smiled weakly and hummed a single note. Stepping into the middle of the room, Castiel gestured at Sam to pass him a piece of chalk, kept lying in a box. Sam passed him a piece of red chalk, and Cas drew a sigil on the table. He then pricked his finger, smeared it down the centre line, intoned something in Enochian and stepped back. With a bright flash, Dusk appeared in the centre of the circle and knelt. 

‘I have found Mosrael. He is marching the corpse roads from Lindisfarne to Loch Lomond. I believe he intends to raise the dead and march down the ley lines, gathering power, before starting his massacres once more.’

Castiel nodded curtly and said

‘Spend each of your reigns searching for the others. Ask the other morrow days whether or not they will help. I do not expect them to, but if even one rallies for us, I will be satisfied’

Thursday’s dusk inclined his head to show he had heard and acknowledged. With a downbeat of wings, he launched into metaphysical flight. Gabriel turned and looked at their motley group as the bells pealed out from across the world, hailing the new day.

‘We should wait for Castiel’s next day of power, but I don’t think we have the time. We go on Saturday and run the corpse roads. Then we prepare to fight.’

Dean grunted, Sam did a small salute but Castiel stepped forward. 

‘Now’s the time to tell them’

Gabriel breathed in and hissed out through his teeth. 

‘There is a hitch’

‘Oh for-’ Dean said colourfully, ‘What’s the catch this time archangel’ 

‘Well. Britain is a strong place of pagan faith and Christianity, among other religions. Those two are the ones our angels have power in, so we will focus on them alone. In Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales, the Pagan forces are pretty bad. They’re mad and wild enough to constantly affect the weather. They draw their power from the standing stones and places of old. Ireland’s particularly bad. As an angel, I dislike going there. The chaos feels like it’s tearing my aspects apart, Loki and Gabriel. Scotland is more bearable, Just. Wales, I can do. England’s the tamest of the five. Something to do with the industry and migration. The old ways barely have a hold, though they can still influence-’

‘Get to the point. The exposition’s killing me’ Dean cut him off.

‘Fine’ Gabriel glowered at him ‘Two forces warring in the old lands. Castiel will be mostly unaffected. I will be much less powerful and have a splitting headache. Guns will not work against the angels. Our blades will work, but only if the angel the blade belongs to is alive and wielding it. You are going to have to make knives and crossbows out of sacred wood to even have a chance’

Dean stood still for a second and then turned his head 

‘Uh, I’m sorry, did you say no guns and our own weapons?’

Gabriel nodded ‘Attaboy Dean!’

Dean threw up his hands

‘You were telling us when? Do you know how long it takes to carve a crossbow, let alone make a knife?  **FRICKIN’ WEEKS** ’

‘Calm down Cowboy, We’re gonna help. First of all...’

Gabriel and Castiel, in unison, pulled an oilskin cloth packet. Cas gave his to Dean, Gabriel gave his to Sam. Sam carefully pulled at the ties and looked inside. He gasped-

‘You’re KIDDING’

‘What?’ Dean turned irritably towards him

Sam held up a long burnished gold feather. It was flawless, the light dancing off it like it was actually metal, except threads of white rippled through it in swirls, dancing along the length of the feather. There were several others of its ilk in the packet. Dean carefully unwrapped his package and looked at the inky black feathers within, the root to tip iridescent black, flashing green, purple and blue. The quill, ridge and the barbs that branched off of it were a liquid silver. Dean looked up at Cas. 

‘What do you want us to use angels feathers for Cas?’ he asked gently. Cas was extremely protective of his wings after he lost them and finally gained them back, and even before then, after raising Dean from hell caused them to become extremely damaged from the strain. Dean had never even seen nor heard of anyone owning an angel’s feather, given they were considered fictional until recently. 

Cas gave a slightly sad smile ‘Gabriel and I agreed this was the best way. Your weapons need to be linked to either of the powers pertinent to our job raging in Britain, Christianity or paganism. We also need to maintain a balance, so your knives will be related to paganism. You will be making quarrels with these. I hope you know how to make bolts. I know the bolts do not generally have them so I hope you can adapt’

Dean scowled ‘Course I can. Bolts are easy. Get stuck in the woods, keep tips on you. Make bolts. One of Dad’s survival….Tips’

Castiel nodded. ‘You can use your own crossbows’

Dean sighed with relief and turned to Sam ‘Let’s get going then. Last I remembered, you weren’t particularly good with a crossbow’

Sam scowled ‘I didn’t get sent on a hunt for a vengeful spirit with only iron-tipped bolts, salt, oil and a lighter for a week to hone my aim’

Dean’s face clouded with the ghost of anger, but he brightened up immediately, punching Sam’s arm and saying ‘More useful than learning how to talk fancily’

Gabriel smiled. 

‘One last thing. You need to use sacred Christian woods for the bolt lengths and I guess call when you’re done. Then we can move onto knives.’

‘My favourite’ Dean grinned and frogmarched Sam down the hall.

‘Research, Sammy! Your best subject!’ echoed from down the hall as well as a faint

‘Don’t call me Sammy!’

Gabriel and Castiel set about gathering other items that would be needed soon enough.

 

Sam shut his laptop with a sigh.

‘We’re gonna need cedar for the quarrels. Could be another wood, but there was a sacred cedar tree in Lebanon and it may have been the tree the cross was made from that Jesus died on. So, important tree. also...

I shotgun stripping and splitting the feathers!’ Sam said in a rush so Dean couldn’t butt in.

Dean groaned ‘Why do I have to go to the timber merchants again? Last time I went, I had ta take lambs blood, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a serial killer’

‘Stop whinging Deanna. Besides, technically we’re both serial killers’

‘Monsters don’t count’ Dean muttered as he went to pick up baby.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll leave Cas’s for you’ Sam shouted after him in a brief flash of regret. 

‘Ha, you’d better!’ was Dean’s only reply.

 

An hour later, Dean was back, dragging a block of cedarwood to the workshop he’d set up in one of the spare rooms. Dropping the block on the workshop floor, he sighed. This was going to take a lot of work.

 

Sam was finishing his last feather when he heard the whirr of machines coming from the workshop cease. He finished cutting the quill down a bit and smiled. He had plenty of fletchings, for thirty bolts or more. He hoped that would be enough. He carried Dean’s feathers through the halls, towards the clatter and whirr of saws.

 

Dean had almost finished cutting the block into dowel sized blocks. He was putting some of them on a planing board so he could start whittling them down into cylindrical shafts and then tip them with the expensive electrum points. The nocks he was planning on fitting sat in a box beside him on his workbench. Sam entered in the midst of his work and set Cas’s feathers down beside him. He then let the fletchings he had made from Gabriel’s feathers spill from their cloth on the workbench next to Dean. Wordlessly both men got to work and the bolts began to take shape next to them.

 

Dean wiped the sweat out of his eyes beneath the protective goggles and powered down the machines. Sam still carried on, ear protection making sure that he couldn’t hear that Dean had done so. Sitting down on the stool next to the workbench, Dean began to strip and split his own feathers. The feather he was working on responded beautifully to his knife, the chromium stripping away to a more opalescent quicksilver. The feather split along the join and Dean marvelled at the evenness. After he had done three, he carefully glued them along the pencilled lines at the nock of the bolt and then glued on the tip and nock, before sanding the surface of the shaft down so it had no splinters. He held the completed bolt up to the light. It was straight as a ruler, the tip deadly sharp, the fletchings flashing in the direct light. It was one of his best. Dean got back to his work with a smile.

 

‘Ugghh’

Sam almost threw the last bolt onto his pile. Dean had been finished for a while, the amount of practice he had quickening his hands. They had about thirty bolts each, each one adapted to fly with feathers and tipped with electrum. Dean hefted his crossbow up, loaded a bolt, pulled back the drawstring, aimed, and hit dead centre of the target he aimed for. A self-satisfied grin spread across his features before he turned to Sam 

‘You next’

Sam did the same and hit slightly left, still in the centre, but not as dead on as Dean’s. Dean cast him a mocking smile and then clasped his hands in prayer.

‘Oh Gabriel, we have finished the task you have set us. We beseech thee grace us with your presence. Also, stop hitting on my brother’

Sam spluttered, Gabriel appeared looking pleased with himself and Cas materialised behind him. Dean held out one of his bolts

‘Perfection. Isn’t it beautiful?’

Cas smiled, while Gabriel pretended to ponder.

‘Hmm seems like it’s not all that straight…’

Dean sent him an annoyed look. Gabriel’s eyes widened in mock surprise

‘Oh, you meant the bolt? Yeah, it’s beautiful, sure. Bound to be if it was Cassie’s feathers gracing it’

‘Please don’t call me Cassie, brother’

‘Hm. Anyway, we made your sacred knives.’

Gabriel handed one to Sam and one to Dean. The blades were silver in a simple hunting knife design, the hilts a mix of blackthorn, elder and yew. The hilts and the blades were inscribed with ogham runes that Dean had never learned how to translate. 

‘Well, That’s one day gone. Tomorrow, we walk the corpse roads.

 

The ley lines run across Scotland crossing one over the other in an indistinct pattern. The one Team free will were running stretched from Lindisfarne in Northern England to a disused country home called Mavishall to Loch Lomond and then to Iona. The ley line was powerful and its influence large, so Castiel and Dean would start from Iona and Gabriel and Sam would start at Lindisfarne. Then, one of the pairs should have located Mosrael. The angels and humans worked in pairs, the angels being unable to sense and follow the ley lines without diverging from their Christian natures, the humans unable to cover more than short distances. Dean and Sam had taken a potion that allowed them to see the flow of the earth’s magic, but it came at the price of colour. Until the potion wore off, neither Sam or Dean could see in colour. Now they walked along the corpse roads, praying to find the angel soon.

 

From the track from Lindisfarne, Sam saw the power of the angel. Mosrael was the waker. Within that realm came the power to raise the dead. Those who died gruesome deaths at Lindisfarne rose up to lead their piper. More and more disturbed earth marked where the dead had pulled themselves out of long covered graves as Gabriel and Sam swooped low along the line. When they were halfway to Loch Lomond, Sam gave a cry. A black mass was marching to Iona on the horizon. Even though they were miles away, Sam heard a brash, jarring call

**‘Rise, you who dance in the halls of the fae**

**Rise, you who fought for war**

**Rise, you who sleep restlessly beneath me**

**Take up arms and March with me**

**Heed my summons**

**Rise’**

The whole verse was spoken in Gaelic. The only way Sam understood it was because Gabriel muttered the translation to him as they flew. Gabriel called to Cas on angel radio. They were flying towards the middle when the figure at the front ceased his chant for a second. He turned upwards to where Gabriel and Sam hovered and waved. His back was bent into that of an old man, his eyes milky and unseeing. But his lips twitched with mirth and cruelty. He held up a hand and beckoned. Sam looked up at Gabriel, who set his jaw. They touched down gently in the heather before the man. It was mere seconds before the humanoid earth and bone men surrounded them. Castiel touched down a second later, Dean nowhere in sight. Mosrael studied the three of them carefully. His mouth opened and a grating, dissonant voice emerged from within.

**‘You are those who wish to take my life. Gabriel and Castiel I understand. But a human? You two have grown soft after your time on earth’**

Gabriel hummed and answered, his voice carrying trails of elegant power

**‘Humans are versatile. They are the ones who used to channel the wildness of chaos’**

**‘Yes, but no longer. Now they seek to reign us in, to take away that which makes us free. I will not stand and let that happen’**

**‘You are several decades late brother.’** Gabriel said mournfully

**‘No matter. A lesson can be taught anytime to those who care to listen.’**

Sam butted in ‘The majority of my race don’t even believe in the old gods. If you tried, they would at most attribute it to a natural disaster and move on. That's what we do. Always moving on quickly, hardly looking back. Sorry if it affected you so badly’

Mosrael stared at him in disdain.

**‘You would do well to keep your tongue in your mouth, or you shall lose it. Also, did you really think I could be fooled by a trick like that?’**

Dean lunged forward, knowing he’d been discovered. A crossbow bolt whizzed past. Mosrael caught it midair and studied it, before stabbing it deep into the ground. The earth split, the ley line flared, and all hell broke loose. Dean and Sam got stuck fighting back to back against hordes of the dead. 

The battle became mindless.

Sam and Dean were fighting mostly instinctually. The dead didn’t seem to have any particular intelligence, so it was only numbers against skill.

Every time they drove them back, they flooded back in. Eventually, it was only

Slash

Stab

Wrench out

Throw the corpse

Repeat.

 

That was until Gabriel and Castiel caught up.

A pealing bell rang across the battlefield. It had, not the jarring voice of Mosrael, but a sweet soothing call. The dead seemed more affected by it than anything. They slumped in piles of earth and bone, the power within them repressed. Mosrael appeared scant metres away from where the Winchesters had been fighting.

**‘Using our sister’s voice against me. I should have expected that from an angel who became the pagan god of trickery’**

Gabriel stood opposite Mosrael, a tiny silver bell in his hand. Its surface darted and glowed with golden marks, flowing together in an endless sea. A glowing glyph shone on Gabriel’s forehead. He rang the bell in a complicated knot formation, his eyes glowing blue with grace. Mosrael laughed and manifested his bell in his hand. He began to ring in an opposite formation, reversing Gabriel’s work. Both bells battled against each other, their wielder's faces contorted in concentration. Sam had felt the sleepiness hit him like a wave. Dean, who had been awake far longer than he had, slumped to the earth. It was all Sam could do to fight to stay awake. He slowly reached for a bolt. He had a short space of time, Gabriel was running out of strength to oppose Mosrael, a true wielder of his bell. Mosrael seemed to be much less aware of his surroundings. Mosrael’s bell seemed to be helping him barely. With a crack, he sends Gabriel backwards. Sam decides to ask why later. He loads his bolt and aims it at the left side of Mosrael’s back. He fires. The tip buries itself in the Angel's ribcage. A perfect shot. Mosrael stops. His bell disappears. He turns to face Sam, blue grace dripping from the wound and evaporating midair.

**‘You presume to shoot me! I will crush you and take your soul for my own!’**

He roared. The sheer weight of his power began to manifest, hanging on Sam like a weight across his back, forcing him down into submission. All he can do is wait for his death. 

A golden light erupts, twining with black curls

Castiel smothers 

Gabriel burns

Quick and 

Bright and

**_Beautiful_ **

Sam shields his eyes, black dancing across his eyes. The Golden warm light means that the potion has worn off, and with it, any protection from the angel’s true forms. No matter how powerful Mosrael may have been, he was no match for a warrior of heaven and an archangel. The golden light consumed him, the blackened light subsided. Gabriel and Mosrael are nowhere to be seen. Castiel walks towards the brothers, looking spent. He touches a hand to each of the Winchesters and they are back at the bunker.

Castiel pitches towards the floor. Dean catches him and sweeps him up. He glares at yet another of Sam’s knowing smirks, and carries both of them away, towards their room, cradling the angel’s head to his chest. Sam settles down to wait.

 

Gabriel drags Mosrael into death, Flinging him to the river that runs to the first gate. Mosrael recovers quickly, using his now visible silver wings to keep himself above the sapping waters of Death. Gabriel stands, his own sword gripped in hand, a burning golden Claidheamh de laimh for the country he was in. The two-handed sword radiated white flames and Gabriel levelled it at Mosrael, who drew his bell and willed it into blade shape. Gabriel flew forwards, Mosrael attempted to parry, Gabriel swung his heavier blade down the length of the guard and threw Mosrael back beyond the First gate. His face burned with rage and righteousness. He was the true image of Michael, avenging, bloody. With a swipe, Gabriel sent Mosrael careening towards the riverbed, wings outstretched, before darting down and skewering Mosrael to the bed of the Second precinct, His sword pinning the other angel’s body to the riverbed. The flames licking the length of his blade roared like a lion fed. Mosrael screamed with pain, his voice ringing on the higher planes, trying to call out one last time. Then it faded away. Mosrael's form twisted and compacted into a bell. This bell was slightly larger than Ranna, and a darker tinted metal. The wings burned into the floor of the river flared with golden marks before sinking into the riverbed. The water roared and whirled around Gabriel, who scooped up the bell and placed it into the bandoleer with its cousin. Turning back towards the barrier to life, Gabriel tore through it like a falling star. He stood over the devastation and a strange sense of victory tore through him like a hurricane. He howled out his triumph to the earth and across angel radio in a single devastating cry of euphoria and warning. He was a golden pinnacle, an archangel amongst the slaughter, wings raised in a bright challenge. His sword burned bright, the dusk silhouetted behind it. Finally, after an age. He turned his head towards the west and beat his wings down into metaphysical flight.

 

Sam was there to catch him when he landed. He now felt nothing of the emotions that had suffused him. 

‘Is he gone?’

‘Yeah. Now I have the weird urge to sleep. Hm, never felt that before.’

Sam chuckled. ‘That’s exhaustion talking’

‘Well, it’s inconvenient and harrowing. I don’t even have a room. And I need to keep watch.’

‘Don’t worry about any of that for the night, okay? Rest in my room. I’ll keep watch. I had sleep last night.’

Gabriel struggled to protest, but found himself suddenly engulfed in huge arms picking him up bridal style, in a similar fashion to how Dean sometimes carried Cas.

‘Sasquatch! Put me down!’

‘No chance. You look like you’re gonna pass out on me’

‘I’m the Archangel Gabriel! I will smite you!’

Sam laughed a deep rich laugh as they walked down the corridors. Gabriel flushed, even more flustered and tried to burrow down to hide it. Sam’s gigantic gait was too calming, the silence too lulling. Gabriel was out before he even had to ask  _ how  _ to sleep. Sam set him gently down on the chair beside the bed and prepared to take vigil until dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what a trip. I will try my hardest to keep this series running to the end. I know its so angsty and the characters aren't really at all like their TV counterparts, but I try. I APOLOGISE FOR THE CHUNKS OF EXPOSITION. I knew it had to happen somewhere, and I think I voiced anyone who reads this with Dean's 'shut up and get to the action'. Criticism appreciated and welcomed. I will attempt to adapt my writing style to whomever offers it's ideals.  
> Thanks to all who've come this far already!!!


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